The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1887-02-12
A HUM-DRUM LIFE.
BY ELIZABETH P. ALLAN.

On a June evening of 1865 a family
party was gathered on the low, wide
porch of an East Virginia country house
Most homes in this part of the country
had been grandee places, whose parch.
ment charters, old English silver, china
and furniture, numerous horses and car
riages, and troops of sable servants
marked them as having belonged to the
cavalier stock of the Old Dominion.
This establishment of " Roseglen had
a different history. having been sliced
off from one of the mammoth old estates
bought and improved by "new" man,
John Ford, who had there made himself
a comfortable home, raised family OF
healthy, sensible children, even giving
them, by the tutoring fashion Of that
time and place, an excellent education.
But the dark war cloud had overshad-
owed this bright home; the father and
one of the boys had been killed in battle;
the mothers health had been wrecked
by distress, anxiety and the usual work
consequent upon the dispersion of the
slaves, and grim poverty followed the
breaking up of the Confederacy.
On this June evening the family we're
holding a sad council of war as to their
future prospects. There was, first of all,
the dear old grandmother, the brightest
countenance in the group. Was it the
"sheen of the thitherward shore on her
face? Was it that she was SO near leav-
ing these shores that earth's tribulations
were nothing to her? Nay, but she had
learned the trust lesson of taking no
thought for the morrow, Of living from
sunrise to sunset, and had found peace
and serenity and even cheerfulness in the
lesson. Then there was the invalid
mother, weak and nervous and fearful,
declaring with sobs that nothing made
any difference to her now, yet showing
by vehement protests against her fate,
that when affairs went contrary to her
wishes, it made every difference.
There was only one masculine voice in
the conclsve. Robert, the oldest, and
now the only, son in the family, felt that
this little world rested ON his shoulders,
and being sturdy fellow, inheriting the
same enterprise and pluck that had made
his fathers fortune, he was minded to go
ahead and bear his burden manfully,
whistling as he went. Finally there were
the twin daughters, called Rose and Lily
with the pretty sentiment one often finds
yelling up in families fresh from the
people," These bright, well-grown girls
were just seventeen, "where the brook
and river meet, womanhood and childhood
sweet" but the gaiety of childhood had
been lost in the darkness of those trying
days, and the fair young faces we're
touchingly overcast.
swell, fellow citizens" began Robert
in playful tone, " 1 shall make the mo-
ton, in virtue of my superior sex; come,
now, call that a plucky speech, when
the petticoats outnumber me four to one
But nobody responding to this mild
attempt at fun, he began again, more
gravely: 81 propose that we all stick
to the old farm, and if we are only will
ing to go back to primitive customs and
tastes, we can get along enough better
than the first settlers of Virginia, and
make living"
"Oh, living, livingl" interrupted
Rose, disdainfully. What sort of a
life will it be? A drudge's life, blowing,
hoeing, scrubbing, delving; hard hands,
wrinkled foreheads, dull thoughts, and a
grave out there in the orchardl I'd soon
or take the grave now and skip all the
rest"
This passionate speech was followed by
a sombre silence, as the fame of mid
night torch leaves blacker darkness be-
hind it. Robert looked hurt and disap-
pointed; he and Rose were never tuned
to the same key; he turned to Lily, with
mute appeal in his glance.
"What young Americans we are" cried
Lily, in such light, cheerful tone that
the pendulum at once swung back from
the morbidly tragic standpoint Of Roses
speech. Here we are settling the affairs
of our little nation, we children. without
any appeal to the elders round the camp